Robert Sheppard
OF APPEARANCES: OF A NAKED WORLD
Purple
& deep pink
along the ridge of dusk
& below
the ranked squares of latticed
factory windows, each lit
The hard exterior
of appearances
fading
the colours
of a healing bruise
The flesh of night
it may well be
this obvious, but can never be
simple
clean points
without edges
moving there
*
Men singing in the factory
its blocks of light
fractured upon the river's surface
Moon
its lesser light also there
ruptured
healing
in fluid uncertainty,
full. Men singing
in the factory: unseen voices
under the waste of the sky
& its slow moon
*
Anthracite
awash with
traces
some flaring
up to blinding point
lazy eyes
swimming
black sheen
flirting with headlights
lost in a
density of space
that can never
return
now familiar
the first watch
on guard duty
gooseflesh
shivering
on the body of night
nurse's fingers
*
The brittle
transformations of
settled snow
affirm, deny
a river glazed
with ice
glinting
shattered light
frozen steam
on opaque glass
in the bathroom
spiked nebula
arctic
fur
*
Flesh-in-firelight
moving upon a body
clothed in a way of
being looked at
touching
the pulse
under the skin
touched
something in the speechless
coming across the horizon
of a naked world
*
black touching
statues
shining
eye
empty streets, emptied
flowing
mouth place
dirty snow
*
Black tyres
peeling
hissing strips
trace-trails
from the wet road
The mouth
of the foxhole
turns
shade towards
dawn
It speaks
hearing
the sun-up
outside
utters it
The shift
workers
exchange places
bolting to
safety, risk
Surfacing
from the other
element
a pair of amphibious
blind eyes
Purple
& deep pink
along the ridge of dusk
& below
the ranked squares of latticed
factory windows, each lit
The hard exterior
of appearances
fading
the colours
of a healing bruise
The flesh of night
it may well be
this obvious, but can never be
simple
clean points
without edges
moving there
*
Men singing in the factory
its blocks of light
fractured upon the river's surface
Moon
its lesser light also there
ruptured
healing
in fluid uncertainty,
full. Men singing
in the factory: unseen voices
under the waste of the sky
& its slow moon
*
Anthracite
awash with
traces
some flaring
up to blinding point
lazy eyes
swimming
black sheen
flirting with headlights
lost in a
density of space
that can never
return
now familiar
the first watch
on guard duty
gooseflesh
shivering
on the body of night
nurse's fingers
*
The brittle
transformations of
settled snow
affirm, deny
a river glazed
with ice
glinting
shattered light
frozen steam
on opaque glass
in the bathroom
spiked nebula
arctic
fur
*
Flesh-in-firelight
moving upon a body
clothed in a way of
being looked at
touching
the pulse
under the skin
touched
something in the speechless
coming across the horizon
of a naked world
*
black touching
statues
shining
eye
empty streets, emptied
flowing
mouth place
dirty snow
*
Black tyres
peeling
hissing strips
trace-trails
from the wet road
The mouth
of the foxhole
turns
shade towards
dawn
It speaks
hearing
the sun-up
outside
utters it
The shift
workers
exchange places
bolting to
safety, risk
Surfacing
from the other
element
a pair of amphibious
blind eyes
Copyright © Robert Sheppard 1982
Robert Sheppard’s most recent book is the collaborative work Twitters for a Lark, published by Shearsman in 2017. His Petrarch 3 from Crater Press, 2016, is the first part of a loose series of 100 sonnets, of which Non-Disclosure Agreement forms a (much-later) part. He blogs quite regularly at robertsheppard.blogspot.com. His work has previously appeared in Molly Bloom 13 and 17.